Only time I've really needed to go for rescue was one fine afternoon on my 1986 XL250R. I was following some ATV tire tracks around Goose Island.
I was riding along the banks, and saw a spot where the tracks went across some sorta-dry looking mud. Not being that experienced a rider, I decided to take it nice and slow. And managed to get it buried up to the cylinder head. My 5'10" 130 pound self couldn't get it out of the mud, try as I might. No cell phone, no spot, but thankfully, this was not a plated road-legal bike - I tried to remove the bike until it started getting dark, but every time I pulled on part of it, I'd sink in mud up to my thighs. Ended up deciding to walk back to the truck. Dear old Dad and my brother and I loaded up and went back out there, with some ropes and flashlights. This is when I learned the trick called "Lay the bike down, drag it sideways, and see if you can get it out." Standing on tree limbs thrown into the mud helped too.
Now of course, I know that I should give it a bit more gas when seeing something like that. Or better yet, ride around it.